


unequivocally yours

by lyricallyharley



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood, Fainting, Ghosts, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possession, Sleep Paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricallyharley/pseuds/lyricallyharley
Summary: dan has many fears, his biggest one being the supernatural. how can he be scared of something he doesn't believe in? and where do fears actually come from?
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	unequivocally yours

Dan shrugs his coat off of his shoulders, sighing in annoyance as it drips onto the wooden floors and leaves little puddles behind. Phil has already returned with a stack of towels to help dry everything off.

They should've known they would get caught in the rain. The thunder had just started to pick up in the car on the way home and Dan was positive they wouldn't make it. 

He doesn't regret them getting to spend time with their friends, but now as he and Phil are standing there with soaked clothes and hair he realizes that they probably should have left a bit sooner.

A flash of lightning lights up a dark window in the lounge. Dan holds his breath as the loud clap of thunder follows and he and Phil both jump out of their skin.

"The forecast didn't say anything about storms like this today." Phil mentions, voice still shaking from the cold. "I thought it would just be a sprinkle at the most."

The rain comes down hard, the wind howling as the constant patter pounds against each and every window. The sound is surprisingly relaxing.

Dan sighs as he struggles to strip the shirt, the rain-soaked cloth clinging to his body tightly. He exhales loudly in relief as he pulls it over his head and feels the fresh air over his chest.

He can feel Phil's stare, even with his eyes closed. He feels a twinge of uncertainty and self consciousness, but he's known Phil long enough that he's come to love the feeling of every aspect of him being loved unconditionally. 

He knows how Phil feels about him. He's reminded constantly. He's learned over the years how to ignore his negative, self-deprecating instincts and accept a compliment. 

He doesn't have to understand when Phil tells him he's beautiful, but he's overcome the uncomfortable impulses in his brain from a combination of therapy and reconditioning. Even on his worst days when he can only think about how much he hates himself, he believes Phil when he tells him how he genuinely feels.

Now, when he opens his eyes and confirms that Phil is in fact looking at him, he sees him standing there with loving eyes and a soft smile. He can't help but take a few steps forward and press his forehead to his. He lifts his hand and traces Phil's jawline with his finger, stopping at his chin.

"You see something you like, Lester?" He quips.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" He hums. 

Phil presses a soft kiss to his lips and pulls away with a grin.

"Shut up and let me look at you." 

"Keep it in your pants." He teases. He brushes his hand through Phil's destroyed quiff, letting the clumps of hair fall over his face which earns him a disapproving look. 

"I'm not keeping anything in them right now. They're soaked as hell."

"Fair enough. Come on." 

Dan takes his hand and pulls him along as they head upstairs.

Once they're in their room they quickly take off their jeans, tossing them in the hamper. Dan puts on a fresh pair of pants and the warmest pair of joggers he can find. 

He turns around to see Phil wearing his stripey t-shirt along with a pair of colourful pajama bottoms, contacts traded for glasses.

"Why are you wearing my shirt?" He scoffs, amused at Phil's ensemble.

"I just put on the first things I could find!" He explains, throwing his hands up in defense. 

Another wave of thunder rolls over them and the walls shake from the vibrations. Dan looks towards their bedroom window. The blinds are drawn but he can still see the bright flashes of light through the cracks. 

"What a night." He sighs. "This is going to last for a while, isn't it?"

Phil shrugs. "Good thing neither of us are scared of storms."

"Yeah." Dan agrees. 

He folds his fingers together and rolls his neck around, and the sound of his knuckles cracking has Phil shooting him a look.

Dan flops onto the bed with a groan. He hadn't realized just how sore he was, but the feeling of warm clothes and a warm bed has him wanting to fall asleep right then and there.

Phil promptly joins him, setting his phone on the nightstand before rolling over and resting his head on Dan's bare chest. He traces invisible patterns on his skin. The feeling is soothing. He mumbles a quiet 'thank you' that he isn't quite sure Phil heard.

Dan opens his eyes and sees Phil's eyes trained on whatever he's tracing. He tries to focus on the shapes. Circles, figure-eights, squiggly lines.They're absent-minded patterns that make Dan question how much attention Phil is actually paying to what he is doing. He seems to be lost in thought, zoned out and unaware of the fact that Dan is looking at him.

"What're you thinking about?" Dan asks.

The finger drawing on him stops for a second, but then resumes. Phil's eyes seem to be drawn out of the empty space he'd been staring at and back into reality as he looks up.

"Nothin' really." He mumbles. "Just life and stuff I guess."

Dan tilts his head and gives him a smile. He trails his hand up his spine and settles it in his hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

"I can tell when you've got something on your mind, bub." Dan says. "Wanna talk about it?"

Phil lets out a huff and the tracing stops. He rests his hand on Dan's shoulder.

"Why is it you aren't scared of storms?"

Dan lifts his gaze to meet Phil’s, unsure of how to answer his question. He shrugs lazily.

"Should I be?" 

"No, I'm just curious.” Phil playfully pokes his cheek. “You're scared of a lot of random things."

Dan swats his hand away. “You’re not scared of storms, are you?”

“No.” Phil chuckles. “Definitely not. I actually find rain quite relaxing.”

“I just want to be with you during storms.” Dan says. “I want someone to cuddle while it passes.”

“You’re just a clingy shit.” Phil quips, earning him a light punch in the stomach.

“Oh hush, you love it.” Dan shoots back, unable to hide his laughter. If they weren’t so tired, it might’ve escalated into a tickle fight. Thankfully, Phil settles for flipping him off and lying back down.

A few minutes pass as they listen to the rain. Dan thinks he could fall asleep like this, but it isn’t long before Phil is asking him another question.

"Do you have an idea of where fears come from?"

Dan thinks about it for a moment. Where  _ do  _ fears come from? It’s one of those silly questions Phil would ask him and then forget about, that he would then spend hours past midnight on wikipedia reading about.

"Life experience, maybe.” He answers. “I've been jumpscared by enough moths that me being terrified of them makes sense."

"But you're scared of the supernatural too." Phil points out. "I know you don't think ghosts are real but you must have had strange things happen to you before."

"Nope.” He clarifies, putting emphasis on the p. “I have no explanation other than the idea of the supernatural being something I wouldn't be able to do anything about, provided they were real."

Phil lets out a low-pitched hum.

"I think fear can come from dreams as well. Have you ever had a dream like that?"

Dan does dream, sometimes. Not enough for them to be of any significance, though.

"None particularly scary enough. I think it's just the fear of what could happen. I wouldn't know what to do in a situation like that."

"So it's the fear of the unknown?"

"Yeah, that's it. The fear of the unknown."

Dan takes Phil’s hand and holds it close to him, pressing tiny kisses to his knuckles. He sighs contentedly in response. He doesn’t retract his hand when Dan lets go, instead tracing the outline of his lips sleepily.

"Hey Dan?" Phil breaks the silence again, nudging him with his head.

"Yeah?" Dan mumbles.

"You should light a candle."

He scoffs, mostly at the unexpectedness of the request having thought he was about to delve deeper into this philosophical conversation. Alas, Phil has the attention span of a goldfish at times.

"Phillll,” He whines playfully. “I don't want to move!" 

"Come on, it's raining! A candle is exactly what we need."

Phil has a cheeky smile on his face and all Dan can think about is kissing it.

"Give me a kiss and I'll get your damn candle." He tells him, matching his smile.

Phil giggles. He leans in and brushes his hand against the side of Dan’s face, gasping when he grabs him and flips him over. Dan smirks as Phil hits the mattress and sinks right back into his hold, and into another kiss.

It’s deeper this time. Dan figured he might as well get something in return for Phil making him get up, so he takes his time. Not that Phil seems to mind. In fact, he braces his hands on the back of Dan’s head like he doesn’t want him to stop.

Just to fuck with him a little, Dan pulls back. He presses one last kiss to his forehead before getting up.

"Get the vanilla one!" Phil calls after him.

"I can't see a damn thing." Dan mutters. He brushes his hand around the wall until he finds the light switch and flips it.

No response. The room remains dark.

Dan groans in frustration as he tries again. Still nothing. He flips it a few more times before he eventually gives up and grabs his phone, opening his settings and turning on the flashlight.

"It's not working?" Phil asks.

"Isn't it obvious?"

He finally locates the correct candle, phone and one hand, the other gripping the side of the dresser so that he doesn’t fall over. He sets his phone down and grabs a lighter from the bedside drawer.

"Did you find it?" Phil asks.

Dan nods and holds the candle up as he lights it so that he can show Phil. He sets it on the nightstand and then crawls back into bed. 

"That's weird that the light isn't turning on." Phil mumbles as he makes grabby hands at Dan. They’re too preoccupied with the need to sleep to actually give any fucks about the broken light.

"Bulb could be burnt out." He suggests. “We can take care of it tomorrow."

At first they lie side by side, hands held loosely as Dan stares at the ceiling and breathes in the refreshing scent. Then, he rolls over so that he’s lying on top of Phil, face hovering barely an inch above his and lets his gaze fall to his lips. Phil does the same. He’s the one to lean up a bit and close the gap between them.

Dan’s hand comes up to cradle Phil’s cheek as they kiss. He takes his free hand and brushes his fingers across Phil’s palm. It’s moments like these where he can let his defenses down, and he can just exist. 

The room smells of rain and vanilla. Their hair is still wet and the pillow beneath Phil’s head is damp. The sounds of the rain grows louder as high pitched wind sounds sweep by. Neither Dan or Phil are bothered by it, the sound and feeling of their lips pressing together the only thing occupying their minds. 

When they part, Dan can already feel himself drifting into sleep. He can tell Phil is as well. He slides off of him and lies on his side, draping his arm over Phil’s waist and pulls him as close as possible.

“I love nights like this.” He breathes, receiving a hum of agreement from Phil.

He closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of the raging storm.

Only seconds later something is slamming against the window. The sound sends Dan flying off of Phil and immediately grabbing his hand.

"What the fuck." He breathes.

"Sounds like a tree fell or something."

Dan is almost embarrassed by his reaction. He had been so deeply focused in the moment that his brain had refused to process the sound. He's not scared, so why is he squeezing Phil's hand?

"Dan, are you okay?"

He doesn't know how to respond. He's still trying to get his breathing under control when the room suddenly gets darker, the only light coming from the flashes through the window and the candle burning on the nightstand. Dan's head snaps towards the dresser to see that the lamp is now off.

"Jesus fuck." 

Dan gets up, still holding Phil's hand as he brings his free hand to his chest to feel his own heartbeat.

"The power's probably gone out." Phil says.

"I wouldn't be surprised, this is an unusually massive storm."

Phil follows him out of bed, keeping close to him. Dan pokes his head out into the hallway and looks up at the light as he flips the lightswitch.

Still nothing.

"Yep. Power's out."

"Let's just go to bed, Dan." Phil whispers.

Dan turns around. He can’t see his face very well, but he can hear the concern in his face.

"You okay?" He asks, heading back over to where he’s standing and lifting his chin with his knuckle.

Another flash of lightning illuminates Phil's face briefly and Dan can see where his face is held between his hands that he’s visibly shaken.

"It's just a storm, babe. Everything is going to be alright. We'll get the power sorted out tomorrow."

"Okay." Phil manages. He grips Dan’s wrist as they walk back towards the bed, the thought of finally being able to get some sleep more appealing than ever.

Then the sound of a crash coming from downstairs has them freezing where they stand.

They stare at each other from opposite sides of the bed. Phil has one knee on the mattress and Dan can see he's struggling to hold the position, but he doesn't move. Neither of them move.

"Dan, what's happening?" Phil's voice shakes as he takes his arm and holds it as close as he can.

Dan is at a loss for words. He gestures for Phil to stay behind him as he opens the same drawer he got the lighter from and pulls out a pocket knife. He unfolds it and keeps it drawn in front of him as he slowly walks forward.

He shivers with every step he takes traversing the hallway and stairwell half expecting something else to happen at every corner.

He can hear Phil's staggered breaths coming from behind him. He can feel him gripping his wrist and keeping close behind him. Dan can tell he keeps looking behind them because the sound of his breathing goes distant every few seconds.

"Who's there?" Dan calls weakly as they reach the bottom of the stairs, the kitchen just around the corner.

No answer. They carefully turn the corner where everything is completely untouched. Their keys and wallets are still on the table, the floor is still slightly wet, and their coats are still on the hanger, dripping on the rug beneath them.

Dan would've been more upset about the fact that they didn't dry them off well enough if he wasn't so spooked. He and Phil both heard the noise. He's not insane.

It's only when they look on the other side of the breakfast bar that they see the source of the crash.

A single glass. Shattered into a million pieces.

"Be careful." He breathes, his voice nothing but a shiver. "Don't want to step on it."

"Maybe it fell?" Phil poses, although his tone shows his lack of confidence in his suggestion. It only makes Dan much more anxious.

"If it somehow fell out of the cupboard it would be open."

He doesn’t mean to sound angry, he’s mostly just terrified. Phil could very well be right but Dan doesn’t stop to consider the possibilities. His mind is made up.

"We didn't have any glasses out before?" Phil asks.

"No, we didn’t.” Dan’s voice is panicked now. “Do you see how many pieces that thing is in?"

"Dan, it’s okay. It was probably just the thu-”

He turns around, shoving Phil behind him and effectively cutting him off. Neither of them say a word as they stand with their backs to the cupboards.

"Who's there!?" Dan shouts after the silence drags on too long.

His head feels like it's racing too fast for him to handle and his heart is beating so heavily it's giving him a pounding headache. The sound of the rain is no longer relaxing, it's vicious.

Despite the many thoughts running through his brain he can only understand one thing. He repeats it over and over again like it's the one tether to his consciousness he has left.

_ Protect Phil. Protect Phil. Protect Phil. _

He is hyperware of every place he and Phil make contact. His hands gripping his arm and his wrist, tugging him closer as if he's scared Dan will wander too far ahead. His breath on his neck, every staccato inhale a reminder of how scared he is. Dan wants nothing more than for this to be a dream, but it's too real to be a dream.

"I said who's there!" He shouts again.

He slowly inches towards the lounge, the sound of leaves aggressively swaying above their balcony growing distant and the sound of ringing taking over. 

It grows with every step he takes. He can't seem to make himself turn away, and it just gets louder and louder.

Dan can hardly focus. He can only make out the sound of Phil worriedly calling his name before the ringing suddenly stops and everything goes silent.

Overrun with confusion, he turns around to see Phil, who has collapsed on the floor.

He drops to his knees instantly, hands going to Phil's chest and shaking as he attempts to wake him. He rolls him from his side to his back and places his hands over his chest. He looks at his pale face, motionless. His exhales are long and fragile, cries disguised as gasps.

When he lowers his head and presses his ear to his chest he squeezes Phil’s hand as if he were trying to squeeze consciousness back into him.

"Phil?" He chokes, holding back his tears as his whole body shakes with fear and anger. 

"Phil!"

Dan lifts his head and presses his hands on either side of his neck, realizing just how cold his fingers are when he feels the warmth there. He doesn’t exactly remember how to check for a pulse, but after feeling around a little bit he detects something under his finger and sighs in relief.

Phil's lips part as he lets out a quiet groan, shaking his head slowly as he comes to. His eyes blink open and Dan is immediately taking his hands.

“Phil, oh my god.”

“What…” Phil mumbles as he blinks furiously. “What happened?”

His brows crease in confusion as Dan readjusts his glasses and places his hand over his forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“You fainted, Phil.” Dan says, aware that he’s stating the obvious. “You could be sick.”

“I’m not sick.” Phil assures him “I-I don’t feel sick, anyway.”

“We were in the rain for a while.” Dan reminds him. “It’s very likely.”

Dan looks over his shoulder a few times as he pushes Phil’s hair out of his face, squeezing his hand.

“Come on.” He supports Phil’s back as he sits up. “The stress must have caused an attack.”

He suddenly feels horrible for overreacting instead of listening to Phil when he was just trying to be reasonable. He was already stressed and he probably just tipped him over the edge.

“My fucking head hurts.” Phil groans.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have stressed you out like that.”

“It’s not your fault.” Phil insists. “I- the storm just has us both on edge.”

“It seems to be calming down.” Dan observes, looking up towards the window, and then back to Phil. “Still, we should have just gone to sleep. Maybe we would’ve been able to sleep through this whole thing.”

Phil supports his weight partially on Dan’s arm as he stands, legs still wobbly and weak as he attempts it. Dan knows he’s not going to be able to get far right now.

“Here. Sit. I’m going to go clean up the glass.” he gestures toward the sofa.

“Are we sleeping here?”

Dan grabs the blanket draped over the arm of the couch and hands it to Phil.

“As if I’m carrying your arse all the way upstairs.” Dan jokes. He leans over and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Just let me know when you’re feeling up to it, then we can go back upstairs.” He says, smiling when Phil nods in agreement. 

“If not, we can sleep here too if you’d like.”

He doesn’t want to leave Phil alone, but Dan knows he shouldn’t leave glass on the floor. Knowing them they’d probably forget it was there and step on it in the morning.

He grabs the dustpan from the cupboard with all their cleaning supplies. He makes his way over to the pile of glass, taking each step as carefully as possible. There’s not telling how far the pieces flew when the glass broke.

He kneels down and sweeps up the majority of the glass. He grabs a few individual shards with his fingers after a few attempts of trying to get them in the pan with the brush. 

He’s almost ready to give up and make a mental note to vacuum the rest tomorrow, when his mind drifts and the ever so present memory of Phil unconscious on the floor shoots to the forefront. 

The visual is right there, and even with his eyes closed he can see it. He can see Phil.

The thought fades as a sharp pain has his eyes falling back open. His eyesight is blurry but he can make out a tinge of red trickling down his palm where he had held the glass too tightly. 

“Fuck.” He mumbles under his breath, dropping the glass and wiping the blood on his sweatpants.

Another stream follows as he presses his fingers down on either side of the cut just under his thumb. He watches as the stream slowly begins to pool in his palm. He stares, his mind drawing nothing but a blank as he goes still and feels goosebumps on his back.

“Dan?”

He turns to face Phil, who’s standing there, blankets secured around his shoulders and gripped firmly against his chest. His eyes widen once his gaze trails down and he seems to notice the blood on Dan’s hand. 

“Shit, Dan.” He snatches the towel where it was hanging from the stove and kneels next to Dan. He wraps his hand and holds it in place as he helps him up.

“Leave the glass.” He urges him, keeping a strong hold on his hand. “We can take care of it tomorrow.”

He leads him to the bathroom. Dan sits on top of the washer as Phil rummages through the medicine bin on the search for some disinfectant and a bandage. Dan watches as he digs through the pill bottles and tosses inadequate or empty bandage boxes to the side, mumbling something under his breath each time.

Once he’s found what he’s looking for he puts the box away and meets Dan’s eyes again. He looks concerned, of course Dan is sitting there with a gash in his hand and Phil’s concern is more than reasonable, but he knows there’s more to it. He knows Phil can tell whenever something isn’t right in his head.

“Dan, talk to me. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He doesn’t wait for him to answer, Dan assumes it’s in case he doesn’t want to. 

He gently unwraps the towel from his hand and grabs the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a cotton ball.

“I don’t know, I was just scared. I didn’t want to scare you or anything, I just-” He stops, taking in a sharp breath through his nose as Phil wipes the cotton over his cut. It stings.

“Sorry.” He whispers, quickly setting it aside and tearing the bandage open.

"I saw you on the floor and I...I just panicked.” Dan continues, watching as Phil nods in response. He applies some neosporin to the bandage before gesturing for Dan to hold his hand out so he can wrap it around his palm.

“I think the storm just has me shaken up for some reason.”

“I agree.” Phil says, pressing carefully down on Dan’s palm to make sure the entire cut is covered and that the bleeding has stopped for the most part. “The house did shake a lot when the thick of the storm came through. I’ve been really on edge tonight. It’s no one’s fault.”

Dan slides off of the washer and welcomes the hug that waits for him. He doesn’t mean for his breathing to stutter in that moment, but once it happens Phil is pulling away and taking hold of his hands.

“Dan?” 

He doesn’t want to look away from the comfort of his gaze, but part of his brain is still screaming at him that they aren’t okay. He’s still high off the adrenaline rush that has caused his shoulders to cramp from nearly touching his ears for a painfully long period of time.

He looks around the room, waiting for something to happen at any moment. Not that the rational side of him thinks anything  _ will  _ happen.

“Are you still scared someone’s in the house?” Phil asks calmly.

His expression is soft, but not entirely at ease. Dan isn’t sure whether Phil wants to tell him that everything is okay, or if he wants Dan to reassure him of that.

He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to lie to Phil, but Dan knows Phil is right to think he was overreacting. Even if he won’t say it outright.

“You know how fucking terrified I am of losing you, right?”

The hold on his hands tightens and he winces as Phil’s fingers digs into his injured palm. He opens his mouth to apologize but Dan stops him.

“I let my anxiety control my judgement and I’m really wishing we had just stayed upstairs.” He admits. “I never want to put you through that kind of stress. Ever.”

“Dan…”

Phil lets his voice trail off. He looks like he wants to cry and Dan is unsure what to make of it.

“I don’t know what I was thinking when you fainted, I just stopped thinking honestly. Even though it’s happened before it still scares me.”

“I was scared too.” Phil tells him. “You’re not alone in this, and you’re not being unreasonable.”

Phil pulls him back into a hug and he accepts it willingly. His hands rubbing his back lightly are affirming. He doesn’t want to upset Phil, so he decides to drop it.

“Okay.”

“Hey, I love you.” Phil whispers into his ear.

Dan takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“I love you too.”

-

Dan wakes up on the sofa. He can hear Phil’s slow breaths from behind him that indicate he’s still asleep. His glasses are on the table. and Dan realizes as he looks down that he’s hugging the blanket, rather than using it. Phil is spooning him and he can’t remember whether they had fallen asleep like this or not.

He’s just glad he didn’t leave him alone, as difficult as it is for both of them to fit. 

He sits up and rubs his eyes before lying down on his opposite side so that he’s facing Phil. He shuffles, but remains asleep. Dan sighs as he pulls the blanket over both of them and places his hand gently against his face.

The lighting in the lounge is intense.  _ It must be early.  _ Dan thinks, drawing circles on Phil’s cheekbone with his thumb. Warm colours dance across Phil’s face, slightly obscured by shadows from the curtains and the trees. It’s still windy outside, but the rain has completely subsided. 

“Phil.” He mumbles, smiling when he stirs in response. 

“Morning.” He responds in his deep morning voice. 

He has a strong urge to lean in and kiss him, so he does. Dan doesn’t let the fact that they’re both half asleep and still slightly shaken from the previous night stop him. He loves morning kisses. So does Phil. It’s a touch of normal in a sea of craziness and confusion.

Phil hums as he kisses him back, reveling in the moment. Everything feels soft and perfect that Dan can’t even remember what had happened to them. All he can think about is how happy he is to have Phil and how nice it feels to kiss him.

When he pulls away Phil’s eyes are still closed. His arms are wrapped around Dan’s torso and he can’t remember how they got there. The room is darker than before, as if the sun had suddenly disappeared altogether. 

Just a minute ago Dan would’ve sworn there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

He wants to say something but he’s more concerned with the way Phil's eyes are squeezed shut and his hold around his middle tightens.

His heart skips a beat when in just a few seconds, the light is stripped from the windows. Like a timelapse, as if each second was several hours of time that had passed. He watches as the light on Phil’s face shifts from gold, to blue, then to black. They’re surrounded in darkness again, just like that.

“Phil?” Dan whispers, voice shaken as his mind fills with an urgency to get him to open his eyes. He can’t breathe, he can’t think.

He attempts to move but the hold Phil has on him is too strong. He tries shaking him but he remains put.

Dan feels his heart drop to his stomach when Phil finally opens his eyes.

They’re dark, almost metallic. Unnaturally coloured eyes that have Dan locked in a laser focus glare that he can’t seem to escape. All of the air rushes from his lungs and his throat feels like it’s getting tighter and tighter as his whole body goes stiff. He opens his mouth to scream.

Then, darkness.

He pushes himself up with a gasp, his eyes wide as he looks around the room looking for, well, something. He can’t really tell what he’s looking for. All that is forgotten when he looks up and sees Phil.

His heart surges in fear. He hates that.

“Dan? Hey, you were just dreaming. I’m here. It’s okay.”

His glasses are smudged but Dan can still stare into his eyes.

Blue. Real.

_ Everything is okay.  _ He tells himself.

Phil cradles his head against his chest and tangles his fingers in his curls.

_ It was just a dream. _ Dan realizes.  _ Phil is okay. _

He wraps his arms around Phil and holds his tears back as he focuses on controlling his shaking. Too much is happening all at once. He can’t tell what is real anymore.

None of his dreams are ever that immersive. Ever. 

Phil says something that he can’t hear. Not that he could have responded, anyway. He’s at a loss for words.

His eyes dart around as he takes in his surroundings. His  _ real  _ surroundings. Judging by the lack of light in the room the power must still be out, and the limited natural light suggests that it’s still cloudy. He would have assumed it was closer to the evening, but the time reads thirty minutes past noon. 

It’s still raining, albeit distant and soft. The storm seems to have passed for the most part.

His eyes find the bandage on his hand and suddenly, those memories come flooding back. He remembers the feeling of being frozen, unable to process anything as he sat there and stared at his bleeding cut.

He wonders what had happened as he looks at the bandage. He can see the dried blood under the material. He can feel the knife in the pocket of his joggers.

“How long have you been up?” He asks, lifting his head out of Phil’s hold.

“I slept on and off mostly. You started mumbling and twitching about half an hour ago but I couldn’t get you to wake up.”

“That’s weird. My dreams are never like that.”

“What did you dream about?”

Dan shakes his head.

“I...don’t even know how to explain it.” 

“Can you try?” Phil pushes, fiddling with his fingers. Dan takes ahold of one of them and it’s grounding.

“Well, I was here. You were half asleep and we were kissing. Suddenly- it was like everything went dark and you were staring at me. You had no eyes.”

“Is that all?”

‘Yeah, that was the last thing I saw.”

Phil pulls him in for a hug.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, arms curling under his arms and over his shoulders.

Dan sinks into his grasp, letting out everything he’d been holding in.

-

Dan is reluctant when Phil suggests that he takes a bath. Of course, he wants to unwind, but a tiny part of him still tingles with anxiety at the thought of leaving Phil alone.

Surely, the feeling will fade. He just needs some time to relax. Nonetheless, Phil offers to join him.

He’s busy going through their collection of various bath bombs when a loud  _ thump  _ grabs his attention. It takes less than a second for him to identify the sound that clearly came from their bedroom.

The sound of a body making contact with carpet is regrettably familiar. Phil has tripped over his own things so many times that he’s almost immune to it. Either way, Dan’s concern gets the better of him.

“Phil?” He calls.

When he turns the corner he can see that Phil is standing, his back facing him. Perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about.

“What was that?” He asks, when Phil doesn’t answer. He takes a few steps closer and rests his hand on his shoulder, seeing that his eyes are closed.

Still no response.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Phil shrugs Dan’s hand off his shoulder aggressively. Dan jumps back. He can see that Phil’s hands are shaking. He wants to take them and comfort him, but suddenly they stop and Phil goes entirely still and turns around.

“Phil?” Dan squeaks.

His eyes fall open.

The air rushes out of him and he swears his heart stops beating.

Dark. An abyss of nothing. Just like his dream. 

He has no time to react. He gasps as Phil’s hands shoot up in a split-second, grabbing him by the throat, backing him up and shoving him against the wall.

Dan tries to scream for him to stop, but he can’t get enough air in his lungs. He pulls at his arms but they don’t budge, and he can feel the panic rise up yet again as he kicks at Phil’s shins and gasps for air, trying to get away.

“Phil.” He chokes. A tear runs down his cheek as he stares at the still and unresponsive face.

He remembers the knife is still in his pocket, unbeknownst to Phil. He doesn’t second guess himself, he doesn’t have time. He fishes it out and quickly flips it open, slashing Phil’s arm with it.

When he looks up he sees Phil, staring at him with tears in his eyes.  _ His  _ eyes. His hands tremble furiously as he cries. Dan backs up slowly, knowing very well that he can’t trust that this is actually Phil. That he won’t try to hurt him again the second he goes to comfort him.

The look on Phil’s face says he may have come to that same realization.

His hands fly up to his mouth and muffle his sobs. A strangled cry escapes him and he squeezes his eyes shut, keeping one hand over his mouth as the other tangles itself in his hair, pulling at it.

Dan watches in confusion and fear. He doesn’t know whether or not he should help him.That is, until Phil takes in a deep breath and whispers something Dan can barely hear, but can understand perfectly.

“Run.”

So he runs.

Seconds later, he can hear that he’s being chased so he heads for the closest room with a lock, the bathroom.

He slams the door and locks it before getting in the shower and closing that door as well. 

He leans back against the wall and lets his weight pull him down. The tears come as he slides down the tile walls and curls his limbs inwards. 

There’s no way to make any sense of this. Something is controlling Phil, something Dan had previously thought was just a bad dream. Something he had conjured up as the source of his fears, but it’s very much real now. He saw it. He watched in horror as Phil fought back against it, just seconds after nearly being suffocated by him.

This is Phil. This is the man he loves. The person he calls his soulmate. There’s no way this can be real, it can’t be.

Supernatural beings aren’t supposed to be real.

The sound of the tap turning on causes him to jump. He looks up to see no one, just as before, except now the water in the sink is running at full velocity. His eyes stay fixed on the faucet. He didn’t think the grip he had on his knife could get any tighter. It could be a part of his body, being the only form of defense he has against this, this  _ thing. _

He isn’t sure what this is. The only thing that’s clear to him is that Phil is probably as good as gone.

His chest surges in pain at the thought.

He chokes on painful sobs as the sound of the running water somehow gets louder. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was being messed with or if his senses were betraying him. He can’t trust anything.

Then the showerhead turns on. Dan whips his head around to see the knob turning on its own, the metal showing a warped version of his reflection. He stares in horror as it turns, and turns, and turns. It turns until it can’t turn anymore and Dan has backed up against the other end of the shower.

He scrambles to his feet and opens the door when the temperature becomes too hot to handle. The water hits his bare back and burns red marks into his skin as he pulls the door open and cries in pain.

He pulls the shower door closed and yanks the towel off of the rail, wrapping it around himself and shaking uncontrollably. 

Something starts banging on the door, and it’s enough to send him over the edge.

“Go away!” He screams, throwing his head against the wall. “Please, go away!”

The banging gets louder. Heavier. The door looks like it’s about to pop off its hinges. No human could create so much force.

Dan wonders if Phil is still here somewhere. How scared he must be. If that even really was him who told him to run.

And if it was, was that his last chance to say goodbye?

He closes his eyes and buries his head between his arms as he remembers the look on Phil’s face, the tears rolling down his red cheeks. Could that have been him? Did he run away before this thing took him away forever?

There is no amount of crying that will drown out the noises. He screams and pleads to himself in hopes it will all just stop. That he will wake up in his bed next to Phil and none of this is actually real. It  _ can’t  _ be real.

The door makes a cracking sound, and then the banging stops.

Dan lifts his head hesitantly, squinting through glazed eyes, face hot with tears. His body shakes as he pulls his legs in closer to his stomach, keeping the knife drawn and his eyes glued to the door.

That’s when the knob falls off. Dan immediately reacts, standing up and backing away as the door swings open slowly, creaking as it goes.

He holds his knife in front of him as he takes a few steps back, ready to fight his way past whatever is on the other side of this door.

He swallows dryly when he sees nothing on the other side.

He takes shivering breath after shivering breath. His eyes dart around the room, nothing. No one.

He thinks about making a run for it, assuming nothing is hiding around the corner.

Then another sound catches his attention. Something, a finger, dragging against the mirror. 

But there’s no one here besides him, and Dan watches in disbelief as letters write themselves in the condensation. His cries grow more desperate when he realizes what this nonexistent being is writing.

_ Hello Dan. _

The words fade almost immediately as they fog up again, but Dan saw them. He's frozen in fear at the implication of them.

He doesn’t have time to make any decisions before he feels a hand clasping around his mouth and yanking him backwards.

He lets out a muffled cry and fights against the hold. He attempts to stab the person in the leg but they’re quick. They grab him by the wrist and knock the knife out of his hand, leaving him weaponless. 

Dan kicks and screams as the grasp becomes more forceful. He’s technically taller but this thing is much stronger than he is. His efforts to escape are futile.

He pulls at the arm as he desperately tries to free his mouth. He takes sharp, panicked breaths through his nose and glances at the mirror over and over again, looking for any weaknesses he can utilize. 

Amidst his panic, Dan manages to catch his reflection in the foggy mirror. He can’t make out much, but he doesn’t need to see a lot to know that the person restraining him is Phil.

Not that this is Phil. This is something possessing his body. He never would’ve had the strength to hold him like this, or break a door. This is not Phil.

The thought of this being part of him, knowing the something is using him, controlling him, it makes Dan feel sick. It only escalates his anger as he thrashes around in its grasp, desperate for leverage of any kind as he makes eye contact with the dark, demonic glare in the mirror. 

Aside from the eyes, he still looks like Phil. It’s creepy. The man he loves more than anything being taken advantage of like this, being used as a vessel to intimidate and torture Dan, it’s enough to have him wriggling his arm out of his grasp and stepping on his foot. 

His reaction isn’t what Dan wants or needs, but it’s enough to allow him less than a second of a window to run. His eyes settle on the knife discarded on the floor. He makes the split second decision to drive for it, rolling out of the way when Phil tries to grab at his ankles, narrowly missing. 

He doesn’t waste any time. He runs, and he doesn’t look back. He doesn’t want to face those eyes for another second.

Remembering that the door is locked and that he doesn’t have time to figure out where the keys might have gone, he panics as he tries to think of another way out. He has to get away.

He decides the quickest way would be to take the fire escape. He runs towards the window, trying to plan ahead and figure out a plan for where he’s going to run to. None of their friends live nearby, and strangers may think he’s crazy. Not that he would blame them.

His fingers tug at the lock on the window. Nothing.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He hears footsteps on the stairs so he falls to his knees, crouching the sofa and crawling under it. He takes slow, controlled breaths as he wiggles his way under, holding back his coughs as he breathes in the dust that has collected there.

He goes completely still when the footsteps reach the lounge and stop. He keeps his eyes trained on the shoes as they slowly begin to move again, each thud ringing in his ears as they pass by the sofa, seemingly oblivious.

The steps circle around and Dan turns his head to follow, shaking in place as he tries to hold his breath.

Then they stop entirely.

Dan’s lungs burn with the need to breathe, but he doesn’t allow himself to give in. He’s able to gain enough control of his shaking body in order to go as still as possible, his eyes focused on the shoes he bought Phil for his birthday. Shoes that are now being worn by someone who wants to attack him.

Then they turn to face the sofa. Dan’s eyes widen in fear as he realizes he’s been found out. He can’t run, he can’t breathe.

That’s when the sofa is pushed up, but not by Phil. It flies up and tips over on its own, slamming against the wall behind him as he stares up at Phil’s demeaning gaze. He scrambles to his feet and backs up against what had just been his hiding place as Phil walks towards him slowly.

Then amazingly, just as if he didn’t have enough surprises, he speaks.

“You’ve got nowhere to go, Dan.”

Dan’s heart stops when he hears him say those words, because that’s  _ his  _ voice. That’s  _ Phil’s  _ voice.

He had been expecting something demonic, something inhuman, but this is the same voice he’s heard for the past ten years. The voice that would tell him how beautiful he is, the voice that would comfort and console him, the voice that would tell him how loved he is and the same voice that hums contentedly as he’s kissed. 

He wants to burst into tears all over again. 

Phil takes another step forward and Dan reacts on impulse, pointing his knife up in an attempt to remind this thing that he has a weapon. The smirk on his face tells him that he could care less, which kills Dan’s hopes of escape.

“You won’t hurt me. You wouldn’t hurt Phil.” It sneers, taking one last step so that he’s right in front of him. Even though Dan is taller, he feels so much smaller compared to whatever this is that has control of Phil.

“I have, and I’ll do it again.” He says shakily, reminding him of the cut on his arm as he looks at it briefly.

Phil just reaches for Dan’s wrist and pulls it towards him so that the blade is pressing into his stomach. Dan tries to retract, knowing an injury to that area could be fatal, but it’s no use. He realizes Phil must know this as well, and is using it to his advantage.

“Yes, but would you  _ kill  _ him?”

Dan gulps, unable to think of a response.

“Would you risk ending his life, right here, right now?”

Dan attempts to swallow but his mouth has run dry. His hand trembles with fear, knowing fully well that he won’t do it. This creature seems to know that as well, a deep chuckle falling from his lips when he’s able to easily slide the blade out of his fingers.

“Didn’t think so.”

Dan just stands there as he cries. Every time this he speaks it’s  _ Phil’s  _ voice he’s hearing. Those same lips he’s kissed so many times are the same ones that are antagonizing him now. 

Phil tosses the knife to the ground and stares down at him, those eyes burning the unfathomable reality into Dan’s head over and over again so that he can never forget.

_ Phil is gone. _

He has the mind to consider running, but Phil seems to be on top of his every move. He lunges forward and grabs him by the arms as soon as he tries, holding him back and leaning into his ear as he struggles to get away.

“You’re stubborn.” He whispers, voice low and dark. “Can’t you see you’re powerless? You can’t help him. You can’t save him.”

He’s playing into every one of Dan’s insecurities. It’s like this thing has access to everything in Phil’s brain. All of his thoughts, his feelings, his memories.

Then it hits Dan that it probably does.

“What do you want from us?” He cries. “What are you?”

“I’m a ghost, and why do I have to want anything? You humans think you have everything figured out with your horror movies and clever plots. You always win in the end, isn’t that right?”

“No, I Just want Phil.” He pleads dumbly. “Please, I just want to protect him.”

“Of course you do.” The ghost snickers.

“Please just let him go.” Dan tries again, desperate, willing to do anything at this point.

He just laughs, deep and dark chuckles that send shivers down Dan's spine.

Dan hates that he understands what’s happening, and that there’s nothing he can do to stop it. 

He feels another pair of hands snaking around his waist and he jumps, looking down to see two dark clouds, perfectly shaped into two arms, emerging from Phil’s sides. 

He yelps when they grab hold of him. They're just as strong as any normal pair of arms.

They don’t look like anything that could, or should exist, but they feel real. Dan can't wrap his head around how the way they feel betrays the way they look.

A third pair emerge from seemingly nowhere, wrapping around his head and his mouth. All three pairs of limbs pull him back so that he’s flush with Phil, who’s leg wraps around his to stop him from kicking out.

“Shh.” He whispers. “It will all be over soon.”

All at once, his body goes still, his sensations fade into nothing, and his eyes roll back as the numbness takes over and he blacks out.

-

There’s a light shining directly over Dan as he wakes with a deep breath. The light is blinding and it only escalates the aching in his head. It’s the worst he’s ever had, for sure. He struggles to take even breaths of air as his eyes blink furiously, darting around despite his migraine.

The scene becomes more familiar as the lights come into his focus. He’s back in bed, staring up at the ceiling and the now-fixed light. Something tells him that the power never actually went out.

His breathing is still ragged, as if his body just picked up where it had left off mid-panic.

He shakes with fear as the memory of what had happened before washes over him and the air rushes from his lungs. His chest feels heavy and his limbs are numb. He feels paralyzed.

The light buzzes as it flickers. Dan rolls his head to the side as it intensifies and dims, and then flickers again. It’s never this bright.

He attempts to move, but yet again his body remains stagnant. This rise and fall of his chest is painful and sporadic, and when he comes to the full realization that he has no control over his own body panic bubbles up in his throat along with the urge to scream.

He wonders if the neighbours would hear, or if they’ve already heard. What if someone is coming for him? For Phil? Would they hear him if he screamed loud enough?

But he can’t. He can’t move and he can’t shout. Using all his strength, the sound still comes as a wheeze, a whistle of nothing. He tries again, nothing. His vocal cords are shot. Every attempt to call for help scratches at the back of his dehydrated throat and causes immense pain, to the point that he eventually gives up.

He’s helpless.

It’s a terrifying feeling. Not knowing what is about to happen to him has him squeezing his eyes closed and whispering pleas under his breath, hoping that maybe somehow, someone will help him. 

His hopes of help are diminished when he feels someone crawling on top of him, and he opens his eyes to meet those of the darkness he’d been half expecting, and half wishing he’d never see again.

Phil’s hand is cold, eliciting a gasp from Dan as it makes contact with his skin. He presses down firmly and Dan shakes underneath him, meeting his dead eyes with horror.

“Don’t fight it.” He whispers, his voice chilling.

The colour in his fingers fades almost entirely as the tips shrivel up like a burnt candle wick. They scratch against Dan’s chest before dissipating into the same thick, dark fog that had formed the phantom limbs earlier. He watches in shock as this same process spread up his fingers and his hands, and then his arms. He watches as the love of his life dissipate right in front of him.

He gasps and cries as Phil is gradually replaced by nothing but a cloud of evil.

He wants to reach up and grab him. His frozen body burns with the urge to hold his arms before they fade away, the need to stop him from leaving. He doesn’t even care if Phil is already gone, he won’t accept it. He won’t let himself think that.

“No, No!” He sobs.

It’s horrifying, watching as Phil becomes a cloud of ashes.

His face is the last to go, and the last thing Dan sees of him, the last thing he has to remember of him, is the darkness fading away at the last minute, revealing two faded, blue eyes. Lifeless.

There’s a few seconds of delay between seeing the colours Dan had grown to love so much full of death and despair, and watching as they crumble before his very eyes.

He can’t do anything but scream in agony.

He begins to breathe in the toxic air surrounding him as he cries.

The pain comes in shockwaves, each breath he takes full of nothing but the dense mist. He squeezes his eyes shut so that he doesn’t have to see it, but he can still feel it. The air smells of death, and he can feel it entering his body, slowly, suffocating and blinding him.

He feels it as it weighs down every inch of him, slowing his chest until his intakes are nothing but a stutter. The air around him grows thinner and thinner until it stops and the pain vanishes all at once.

Dan opens his eyes and takes a gulp of fresh air

When he looks around everything looks the same. The dark mist is gone and so is the sensation in most of his body.

He lets his hand flop onto his chest. He affirms himself with the rise and fall along with the heartbeat he can feel there.

“Am I dead?” He slurs, realizing the pain in his throat is also gone.

The room is mostly quiet, the only sounds coming from outside. The wind and traffic sounds are peaceful compared to the pounding of his heart.

But, then he hears something else. The sound of someone breathing, someone that isn’t him.

“Don’t look like it.” They respond.

The tone is slightly joking and quiet, but he recognizes that voice anywhere.

“Phil?” He gasps, tears pooling in his eyes as he continues to stare at the ceiling. He’s too scared to look, just in case his head might be betraying him.

The person shuffles and Dan can feel a warm hand coming into contact with his stomach. He wants to move. He wants to turn and look but he’s not in control of his body. He’s terrified of not knowing what’s real, what isn’t. 

“Dan, are you okay?” He asks, grabbing Dan’s hand from his chest.

He jumps and stares up in shock when he sees him.

It’s Phil. Propped up by his arm. All in one piece, complete with worry written in his blue eyes.

Dan lets the reality of the situation sink in. Tears roll down his cheek and he instinctively pulls on Phil’s hand, wanting nothing more than to be close to him. His sensations start to come back to life as Phil pulls him up and into his arms.

He breaks down the, bursting into ugly sobs when he sinks into the warmth of Phil’s grasp.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” He speaks those words softly into his ear as his hand finds the back of Dan’s head. The touch is comforting. 

“You’re safe.” Phil whispers. 

“Was I dreaming?” Dan asks dumbfoundedly.

He lifts his head so that he can look at Phil again and confirm that it’s really him, that this isn’t some sick, twisted joke. He’s really alive.

“Yeah, you’ve been asleep for hours.”

Dan shudders at the realization. None of that actually happened.

“Fuck. What happened?”

“Well, you slept in really late. It’s nearly dark.”

Dan turns to look at the window. Golden light shines through indicating the evening hours. 

“When did we fall asleep?” He asks, still staring at the window, puzzled. How much was real? How much was fake? Why was his dream so vivid that he can't decipher the difference?

“I don’t know. We lit that candle and then just kind of drifted off.”

“We didn’t go back downstairs?”

“No, we pretty much just went to bed as soon as we got home.”

It hits him. There were no ghosts, there was no smashed glass. He looks down at his hand, feeling for a cut that doesn’t exist. He tries to focus on his breathing as he closes his eyes and pieces it all together in his head.

“What did you dream about?” Phil asks while brushing Dan’s curls out of his face.

Dan huffs. He can remember everything so clearly it’s overwhelming. He wouldn’t even know where to begin, so he just cuts to the chase.

“Fucking ghosts.”

Phil’s mouth drops a little. 

“Ghosts?”

“Yeah. It all felt so real. I had no idea I was dreaming. I-I thought you were gone." Dan struggles to finish his sentence as the urge to cry returns. He doesn’t attempt to hide it, he just falls back into Phil’s arms as he cries.

Phil whispers reminders of “it’s okay” over and over again as he hugs Dan against him, rubbing his back soothingly. 

“I was so scared.” Dan sobs. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No you’re not.” Phil tells him. “It’s completely natural to have nightmares about something you’re scared of. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

He continues to whisper reminders into his ear as he draws on his back and brushes his fingers through his hair. Once Dan clms down enough he asks Phil if they can lay back down, to which he nods.

“Can I just look at you?” He asks. “And hold you?”

Phil gives him an understanding smile. He nods, wrapping his arms around Dan as the lie down face to face. Dan traces his face with his fingers, tears falling from his eyes and onto the pillow every now and then every time he thinks about his dream and remembers that he’s okay now. Phil is right here in front of him.

"Do you ever think I take you for granted?" Dan asks out of nowhere, causing Phil to furrow his brows and bring his hand up to his head, rubbing circles into his temple.

"Absolutely not." He answers with an undeniable certainty. 

Dan still isn't entirely convinced, but he knows Phil well enough to know that he wouldn't lie to him. There's no use in being scared of things like that.

“You’re safe.” Phil whispers. “It was just a bad dream.”

Somehow, Dan is calm. He lets out a shuddered exhale as he comes to terms with it. The answers to why he had this dream and why it’s affecting him this way is something he can deconstruct with Phil, or his therapist. He doesn’t care about understanding it right now, he just doesn’t want to think about it.

The feeling of being back in Phil’s arms, understanding that he never really left them. He doesn’t have to dwell on what he could have done in this fictional universe in his head, because it’s gone. Never to return. He knows he would never let anything happen to Phil, and that they would never truly be in a situation like that.

The reality is that none of those fears matter. None of those things can hurt them. He feels content with the fact that the only threats that would ever be posed to them are ones that he understands, ones that are preventable. He doesn’t have to be scared of the things he can’t control. He doesn’t have to fear for Phil’s life, and he knows that makes him lucky.

He’s too shaken to sleep, so for now he’s happy to continue staring at Phil until he drifts off. Knowing that he’s probably been watching over him, Dan’s heart aches with love for this man.

He kisses his head and receives a hum of happiness.

“Yeah, you’re right. ghosts aren’t real anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! come say hi on tumblr (@casualdannie)


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